New Accommodations
by PegasusWingsVW
Summary: This is the prequel to my story Wedding Times. A young university student moves into 221c and has interesting encounters with her fellow residents. I am Canadian, not British, so any language, cultural or geographical mistakes I have made, please be kind enough to point them out. Reviews with constructive input would be lovely.


It took a long time to get used to London. It was wet, dull and dreary, not to mention the population density. Wall to wall people and traffic was enough to drive anyone used to the country crazy within the first few days. That's not to say city life didn't have its perks, you could get to a shopping centre with considerable variety of products within a few minutes of leaving your flat. Everything was close and convenient. Transportation was rarely a problem, especially if you where a student with a pass, and even if one didn't have a pass, biking or walking was always an option.

Abigail Thatcher, also know as Abby, preferred to bike or walk. Having grown-up in the country she was used to being active. The closeness of the city gave her a constant feeling of claustrophobia if she didn't get out and exercise. The university was a 15 min walk and a 10 min bike from the flat she used to share with her old high school mates. A series of unfortunate and irritating events had caused her to seek accommodation elsewhere. Luck had it that her aunt knew a lady who had been trying to find a tenant for her downstairs flat for ages. 221B Baker Street, or rather, 221c which was inside the flat. It was damp, a bit of mold in the washroom, however it was cheap, very cheap considering its location. One look was enough to make her decision, she was desperate after all. Her stuff had been sitting in boxes in the living room of a friend and she had been sleeping on a couch, not to mention she couldn't function in that environment and her marks suffered even more. The state of the flat aside, it was a good bargain. So, after a few days of renovating a few major messes with the help of her uncle, Abigail had moved in.

The landlady Mrs. Hudson was very sweet, she had assured Abigail that the two bachelors upstairs were trust worthy and mostly harmless. Apparently one of them used to be an army doctor and the other was some kind of detective, though she hadn't really had a chance to talk to them properly yet. Just a quick introduction by Mrs. Hudson as the gentlemen where coming in and Abigail was hurrying out. They seemed nice enough, from what she could tell through the brief moments of conversation.

The "consulting detective", Mr. Sherlock Holmes, was very tall and rather handsome but had unnerving blue eyes that where ever watchful. Abby was certain there was seldom a detail he missed about someone or a situation. Dr. John Watson was really very lovely. He had a very kind demeanour and was really very welcoming, and she could tell he must be incredibly patient to live with Sherlock. From what Mrs. Hudson had told her about Sherlock, he was a bit of a mad scientist genius. Abby was surprised that she wasn't more alarmed by the warnings and stories she heard over tea with her landlady the one day. Any sane girl would up and leave, but she didn't. Deep down she felt that a crazy genius living upstairs was probably safer than living with a bunch of teens who threw wild parties every other night with sketchy guests.

The next few weeks pasted quickly and well, almost quietly. Abby got her first taste of Sherlock first hand when he came barging into her flat with a tranquilizer gun and shot someone across the street with it for her window. She had been sitting in her bean-bag chair doing her readings for class the next day, listening to Simon and Garfunkel when suddenly her door burst open.

"Afternoon," he waltzed across the room past her to the slightly open window, pointed the gun out of it and fired. From where she was sitting, Abby watched in slightly open mouthed amazement as a rather nasty looking man fell to the ground. Obviously shot with a tranquilizer dart since she knew Sherlock wasn't holding a real gun. Real guns where louder and didn't shot darts.

"Catching a criminal are we?" Abby was shocked at the calm in her voice.

"Yes, well, potentially yes, sorry about your door."and with that he was gone. It took a few moments for her to register what had just happened. _What about my door...ah shit. _Getting up and quickly checking her door she saw that the lock was completely busted. She'd need to buy a new one, experience told her it wouldn't be cheap.


End file.
